A conversation between M- & D-: Just after eleventeen

As I mentioned recently, my four-year-old son D- has a beloved Corduroy bear who's seen more than most bears his age ever will or want to.

His nearly four-year relationship with Corduroy is slowly becoming something of an obsession for his almost-two-year-old sister M-, who seems to have taken the concept of hand-me-downs to the extreme of now excitedly waiting to consume her brother's entire existence as she grows up.

Case in point, this conversation that took place in the hallway last week while I was in the shower:

M- (pleasantly, with her hands out): I can have Corduroy.

D- (graciously, as he often is): No, not right now, sweetie.

M-: Yeah, when I'm BIG-GER.

D-: ...No, he'll always be mine, even when you're bigger, but you've got a bear, too, remember?

M-: No-- I can have Corduroy when I'm BIGger.

D- (remixing lines he's been fed before): No, M-, you can't have him when you're bigger, cause even though I'll be bigger, too, he'll still be my friend. But you can hold him sometimes, still.

M- (with an audible blank stare): ...And I can have Corduroy when I'm bigger, when I'm fifty-bigger!

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For more such posts, check out the other (4 YO son) D- conversations, (1YO daughter) M- conversations, and (wife) J- conversations.

Tinkle, tinkle, little star

In her continuing effort to become 5 years old in 2 years or less (she currently seems to be speaking and thinking at about a 3-year-old level), my 19-month-old daughter M- woke up mostly dry the other morning and immediately peed in the toilet upon waking.

Now, I don't know about you, but that first pee in the morning is generally very refreshing and primally satisfying, and given that this was her first-ever Morning Pee on a toilet, where she could hear that satisfying splashing sound instead of feeling that unnerving warmth, I expected great giddiness. However, she was mostly excited about getting "a treeeeeeeat", and this moment I captured seems to suggest that even that high wasn't made to last long:
Maybe she just knows it marks the end of an era, a glorious time of life* when you can just let loose whenever you want and know someone will clean it up for you.

Honestly, though, based on her usual morning mood, I think the look may have understandably stemmed from getting her picture taken while on the toilet (again). Still, being as angelic as she often is (I just can't bring myself to exaggerate by not including this qualifier), she couldn't hold out for long:
Full Disclosure: I had just reminded her that she could have extra treats for actually making pee, one of which is finally getting to use some of that highly-sought and entrancing toilet paper.

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* To clarify, I mean the time of life when you don't feel guilty or depressed about that habit.

Like a horse and carriage

Well, there's just a boring post for you all today, because all I can think about is that my oldest brother is getting married in a few hours.

It's crazy, and it makes me vividly remember little J- and I getting married almost 5 years ago. I don't envy them all the preparation and last-minute panicking, or dealing with the inevitable organizational breakdowns and such.

Mostly it's crazy because my brother is Getting Married.

I mean, what's with that? How dare things change in the world without my express written consent?!

Seriously, though, I'm really happy for him and I think it's cool. I'm also glad I like my new sister (how odd is that to say?), or I think it would probably make things awkward. The wedding's going to be fun and memorable, and then we can all move on to finding my other brother a nice girl to settle down with, before he dies an old maid unloved and alone. Just kidding, buddy!

Oh my god, Dad, what-everrr

Is it just me, or does this provide a blurry little peek into the next decade?

D- slumped over on the couch, lost in a videogame, and M- posing while casually chatting on a cell phone... (shudder)

That's it, we're officially Luddites from now on!

...Except I still get to use my Wii... and my DVR.
And some other stuff.

Okay, just the kids will be Luddites.

Gimme 10 Mommy kisses and 50 CCs of fairy dust, stat!

I've always known that kids have an imaginary world all their own, ever since I said goodbye to mine around 3 or so and began observing my peers much like scientific subjects, but I had no idea how far it really extended until now.

The other day, while desperately trying to finish doing our taxes once and for all (which is as difficult as you might imagine to do during the afternoon), my attention was called away to M- as she tried to insert a sticker into the Wii, possibly in an attempt to fish out the Cheerio she thought was still in there from a few days earlier. (I know, I know-- it's obvious now we're going to have to give up on the honeymoon and move the Wii somewhere out of her reach.)

Half a second after turning my attention back to the taxes, I heard M- say, "Uh-oh!" in a whimpering voice, holding her hand out with her fingers pointed awkwardly. Not as in bent or broken, mind you, just in a deliberately exaggerated position, trying to show me the back of her hand without turning her hand over.

I looked at her and asked what the problem was, and she held her hand out and said, "Uh-ohhh!" more insistently, starting to cry a bit more. It was clear she just kind of scraped or bashed her hand imperceptibly on something. But since she looked so cute and so dependent on me for rescue (this must be what mothers inherently recognize and respond to, I guess), I picked her up, kissed her hand randomly (not having any point of reference on where this injury was supposed to be), and then said, "All better!"

She stopped crying and laughed a little, reaffirming my dismissive theory, but she wasn't truly all better until D- got down from the couch (a.k.a. Toyland) and asked to see her hand for himself. She held her hand out in much the same position once again, and D- loudly drew in a deep, dramatic breath (I can't think of a way to spell it out, but we've all heard it). He then said, in a genuinely shocked and concerned voice, "Oh. My. Gosh!!!" as if she had fingers dangling off, flicking blood in every direction. M- looked very satisfied with this, though she retained the look of concern appropriate for someone who might presently die of gangrene.

I double-checked her hand as D- turned it over a couple times with a shocked look on his face, just in case I was insane, but it was 100% pure baby hand, with no sign of anything but cuteness. I felt like I was missing some kind of special gift to be able to see this horrible injury, like with those magic death horses in Harry Potter 5 (as my sister reads this I know she is stating plainly whatever they are called).

As you might imagine, all this lavish attention and validation of her concerns worked wonders, and I set M- back down for much more sympathetic hugs and kisses than I could ever manage with my bitter-old-grownup, reality-based worldview. Those two were made for each other.

Age is wasted on the elderly

I've decided that it's more fun to be a kid than an adult.

In the interests of full disclosure, I decided this long ago, even before I entered kindergarten. (I was no sucker, going to school before I actually had to...) My mom often tells of a day near my fourth birthday when she asked if I was excited to be turning four. I answered that no, I wasn't, because three was just fine.

I still stand by that answer. If anything, I probably believe in it even more strongly, having now followed up my experience of being a 3-year-old by spending every day for almost a year with a 3-year-old. This was purely for research, of course. I'll be packing him up and shipping him back to the dealer once he turns four.

Seriously though, after all this careful observation, I can tell you that for as much that has changed in the past 20 years, not much is truly different, at least where our nation's 3-year-olds are concerned. Big hobbies still include playing, running, shouting, spouting nonsense, and thinking of cute and unintentionally amusing things to say.

Meanwhile, old people just keep getting older and less fun. This is largely due to a preponderance of unfun activities presented to us as Necessary Parts of Being an Adult. Big hobbies include working, walking at a reasonable speed, muttering, worrying, accruing debt, and thinking things through.

I'd trade my Maturity, Knowledge, and Experience in a heartbeat to live the carefree life of a child, but I'm told it's too late to change teams. (Also, it hasn't worked out that well for Britney Spears.) At least I have some hope, though, because I've heard that one way to mitigate the effects of age is to spend more time with those not yet suffering its ravages, and I've got that base more than covered.